


William Shakespeare is a D-bag. (A Sherlock fan fiction)

by flipflopking



Category: Sherlock (TV)
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-12-22
Updated: 2014-12-22
Packaged: 2018-03-02 19:28:51
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,944
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2823416
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/flipflopking/pseuds/flipflopking
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>When Sherlock receives a book with intentional clues and notes leading him to an attack he and his partner ,John Watson, investigate. Will they make it through each clue with their lives? Or will they too become a victim of this new foe?</p>
            </blockquote>





	William Shakespeare is a D-bag. (A Sherlock fan fiction)

Sherlock begins dusting the old book off, opening it and carding through the pages. "Who did you say sent this?" The dark haired man asks his colleague. John shrugs his jacket off and puts it on the hook. "It didn't say. Just that it was for you." He says then scratches the back of his neck. "Why? Is something wrong?" He asks quietly, he didn't exactly know why he asked. Even if there was something wrong Sherlock wouldn't let him know.

"Well...we might have a case." Sherlock informs him, not seeming excited about it like he normally would be. "There's blood on the inside cover, and a small note that reads 'Want to play a game?'" He says in a monotone growl. "It looks like it's been written by a small child or a left-handed man with terrible penmanship."

John's eyes widen a little and he walks over to Sherlock. "Moriarty?" He asks.

Holmes shakes his head and sighs. "Must you be so narrow?" He asks with the roll of his eyes. "Moriarty has much nicer penmanship and doesn't need to place such obvious clues as this. He's a clever man." He says quickly.

John sighs and narrows his eyes at the taller man. "Aw. Did I offend your boyfriend?" Watson taunts.

Sherlock sighs and just dismisses the comment, not even bothering to acknowledge it. "The blood looks like it was intentionally put there. This person obviously wants to play..." He mutters then puts the book up to his nose and takes a big whiff. "The smell and texture of the book suggests it is over twenty years old-"

"Uh-uh-ah. Stop right there. I know you Sherlock. I saw you glance at the copy write date. Who are you trying to impress?" John asks then laughs a little.

Sherlock shrinks down a little and sighs. "Who are /you/ trying to impress?" He shoots back, looking like he was proud of the poorly thought of comeback. "We need to focus." He says quickly. "The book has several finger prints on the pages, mainly just the pages where there are casualties." He observes then holds up the old copy of Romeo and Juliet. "This person thinks they know a lot about good literature but they really don't. Did you know William Shakespeare actually was looked down on in his time before he released his plays and 'good writes' because of his terrible-" Sherlock is once again interrupted by his partner, snapping his fingers.

"Focus." John snaps. "We don't have time for your stories. There are lives at stake." He exaggerates.

Sherlock scoffs and narrows his eyes at John. "Can you leave me? I'd like to review these clues alone, without distraction." He says with pursed lips, straightening his back and starting to look at the book once more.

John sighs. "I'll pick up some things..." He say then turns to leave.

"Get me some cow intestines while you're out." Sherlock says quickly.

John sighs and shakes his head to himself, not even bothering to ask why he needed them. Probably just another one of his experiments John thought to himself as he tossed his coat back on his shoulders and exited the room and walked down the narrow hallway to the front door.

 

\--------------------------------------------Hours later--------------------------------------------------

 

John returns with cow intestines in hand along with some other things, stepping inside and observing a pacing Sherlock, running about the flat grabbing things and putting them in a specific order around the book as if trying to create a picture. "I bought your stupid cow intestines..." John mutters. "What do you need these for anyway?"

Sherlock doesn't stop rearranging things as he speaks. "I don't. I just needed you gone long enough to complete this picture and I knew you would have to go all the way across London to get them." He says in a monotone voice, squinting and pacing.

John glares at Sherlock for a few seconds then just gives up because he knows the detective isn't going to pay attention to him anytime soon. "Arse..." He mumbles then goes into the small kitchen and sets his things down. "How's the case coming along?" He calls.

"Must you be so loud while I'm working?" Sherlock asks. "I find the sound of your voice very degrading at the moment." He says as he picks up a string and ties it around the pieces of random furnishings and books.

John sighs and rolls his eyes, opening the package they had just received. "Sherlock, there's another package here..." He says quietly then pulls another book out, this time a corner soaked in the red liquid with a note attached. 'Getting warmer...'

Sherlock breaks out of his gaze and jogs to John, snatching the package from him and shakes his head at him. "You're contaminating it." He says quickly as he glances over the package. "Not real blood..." He says to himself then picks the book up out of the large envelope, he brings I up to his nose once again and smells it. "Wine..." He mumbles. "Of course. Oh how cleaver this one is." He exclaims with a big smile on his face. "Red wine and bread crumbs..." He says to John. "This is splendid. We must go there immediately."

John stands there, looking puzzled. "Go where?" He asks.

"You fool! The Church. The church." He exclaims.

"Which one?"

"All of them!" Sherlock says excitedly then grabs his long black trench coat and pops the collar.

"You must be joking." John mutters. "There's more than 100 in London alone."

"That's why we must go to /the/ church." He says quickly then goes right outside and hails a cab, waiting a few seconds for John to catch up. Sherlock gets in and leaves room for John who follows. "St Pauls Cathedral please." Sherlock says proudly, flashing a smile at John.

John shakes his head. "But /why/?" He asks.

"The celebration of Shakespeare of course." He says with a smile.

"You think the person who has been sending you these packages is going to be there?" John asks clueless.

"Bingo." Sherlie says quickly, eye brows coming close together to form a concentrated look on his face. "The first book didn't have real blood on it, just a bit of Halloween paint. I found this out when a whole hour had past and there wasn't a single change in the color of the blood." He says quietly. "They haven't killed anyone...they just want my attention." He says quietly. "They're going to kill someone tonight though. I almost guarantee it. Then. Then we'll have them for good." He says with a smile.

John's back straightens and he narrows his eyes and the dark haired man. "You are going to stop the killing right?" He asks.

"Of course not. Then this person wouldn't have done anything wrong. And we can't put a person who's done nothing wrong in jail now, can we?" He asks, not seeming phased by the fact that someone is going to die and he's not going to stop it.

John shakes his head. "No, I won't allow it." He says in a bold voice.

Sherlock keeps a straight face, not seeming phased by his threat. "I don't need your approval, Watson. If I did you would probably be dead right now." He says as the taxi comes to a stop. Sherlock gets out, leaving John with the Cab fee. John starts to get out but the driver stops him. "That'll be 10 pounds, mate." The gruff driver says fast.

John sighs and pulls out exactly enough.

"What no tip?" He asks, john just rolls his eyes then gets out but the cab driver gets out of his car and grabs John roughly, putting a gun to his head. "Your partner is quite clever...not as clever as me though..." He says then laughs a little. "Yell for him." He orders.

John obeys immediately. "Sherlock!" He calls, not about to get shot just so Sherlock could solve a stupid case.

Sherlock spins on his heels and jogs back to John. "Oh, lord. What have you gotten yourself into this time?" Sherlock asks.

"Shut up!" The driver demands. "I've got your attention now, yes?" He asks.

"I'm not sure...I could have stopped you earlier but I just really needed to see where this was going to go." He says with a light smile, John struggling a little under the stout man's grasp.

Sherlock's eyes narrow and he starts looking the man up and down, retrieving clues with nothing but his eyes, he sees a small bit of bread on the upper right corner of his pull over hoodie and a small drop of wine on his sleeve. "If you really wanted to shoot my esteemed colleague you'd have already done it." Sherlock says boldly, causing Johns eye to widen a little. "You aren't a killer. You don't have it in you." He taunts.

"You want to make a bet?" The driver asks then cocks his weapon. "I will shoot him." He growls

"All for a document? Don't you think that's a bit radical?" Holmes asks calmly.

"Just give me the damn thing and you can have your partner ba-Wait...how did you know I wanted a document...?" He asks, eye brows furrowing.

"It's so obvious, the wine on the book is only available at the-" Sherlock gets cut off again and sighs as he finishes his thoughts silently in his own head rather than out loud

John interjects, leaning his head back so the gun isn't so firmly pressed against his temple. "Just give him the papers." He says quickly.

"No, he doesn't need them. And he won't kill you. This, John. Is my brother. Introduce yourself, Mycroft." He says proudly, staring straight through the others disguise.

Mycroft sighs and hangs his head, letting go of John and wiping his make-up off with his sleeve. "Nice job, little brother. How'd you know it was me? I had a very high class make-up artist do this..." He mumbles seeming somewhat disappointed.

John stands back in shock, jaw hanging open. "There's two of them...?" He asks out loud then swallows hard.

"Close your mouth, you might catch a fly." Mycroft says to John then rubs his brother shoulder.

"Bu-but what about the mystery?" John exclaims. "What about the blood? The killing? Was that all one big joke?"

"Yes." Sherlock replies simply, shrugging his siblings hand off of his shoulder. "There was never a mystery." He says then glares quickly at Mycroft. "There was just my idiot brother wanting to play a game." Sherlock growls then shakes his head. "Should we head back to the flat? I'm quite exhausted." He complains.

John sighs. "You people and your games." He clears his throat then reaches over and grabs his ten quid back from the other Holmes.

"Oh how much I pity you." Mycroft jokes, smiling and laughing quietly. "Here take the other 15. I don't need such money as this. It is much easier to just cheat." He says then nods to the cab. "Get in, I'll give you a free ride." He says then gets in the driver's side.

Both Sherlock and john pile in and as Mycroft is starting the car again the whole ground shakes, a loud booming sound echoes through the men's ears, john gets back out of the car, followed by Sherlock. They both look up into the smoke filled sky, an explosion was the source, coming right from the top of the cathedral.

 

"Now this...is a case." Sherlock says as he pops his collar and walks toward the massive fiery pit of hot metal and burning wood.


End file.
